The Sinister Spinster (25 page)

"Very well," she said at last, rising gracefully to her feet. "But first I believe I'll look in on Lady Barrington. She seemed quite upset."

Adam grimaced, thinking
upset
was as good a word as any to describe her grace's performance. She'd appeared with the rest of the guests when they'd come dashing out of their rooms, summoned by the countess's screams, and her own shrieks rivaled Lady Derring's in shrillness and volume. She'd been dressed in a diaphanous peignoir in violet silk, and he was fairly certain he wasn't the only man present to note the lush feminine breasts visible through the sheer silk. Certainly Lord Stoughton seemed to appreciate the sight, and he heroically carried the duchess back to her room after she collapsed in a graceful swoon. He hadn't been seen since, and Adam could well imagine the reason for his absence.

"You needn't bother yourself with her grace," he said, imagining the scene that would follow if Elizabeth caught the trysting couple in flagrante delicto. "I'm sure she'll survive without your ministrations. And in any case, I am surprised to find her behaving so squeamishly," he added ingenuously. "I shouldn't have thought her the missish sort."

"Any lady is certain to be missish when two men are attacked so viciously in under a week," Elizabeth said, defending the other woman spiritedly. "Besides, I'm not certain she has recovered from Mr. Colburt's death. She spoke of seeing him lying facedown in his own blood, and you could tell it upset her."

Adam stopped, his hand resting lightly on Elizabeth's back. An image of how he first saw Colburt lying on the stone floor of the conservatory flashed in his mind.

"She said he was lying facedown?" he said, taking care to hide his acute interest.

"Just like we found Mr. Carling, I should imagine," Elizabeth agreed, patting back a yawn as he guided her from the room.

Adam said nothing, although his mind was racing with speculation. He couldn't remember whether the duchess had been one of the many people crowded into the conservatory that day, but if she had been, wouldn't she have seen Colburt lying face up? It made for an interesting theory, and he tucked the information away for further consideration.

The hallway was deserted when he and Elizabeth emerged from Carling's chambers. The door to the upper sitting room was standing open, and it occurred to him that he'd been granted the perfect opportunity to steal a few private moments with Elizabeth. Casting a quick glance about to make certain they were alone, he pulled her into the room and closed the door behind them. Leaving her only long enough to light a candle, he returned to her side and began kissing her with long-suppressed passion.

When he lifted his head Elizabeth was gazing up at him, her expression languorous. "Finding wounded men would seem to have an odd affect upon you, my lord," she teased, winding her arms about his neck. "How shocking."

Her boldness delighted him. "Imp," he replied, placing another kiss on her soft lips. "It's you who has the affect upon me, and there's nothing in the least shocking about it."

"As you say," she agreed, smiling with shy pleasure. "And as it happens, you have the very same affect upon me."

The lure of her was more than he could resist, and he
gave in to the need to taste her again. Their kisses grew ever more heated, and it was with greatest reluctance that he forced himself to call a halt.

"Elizabeth," he said, reaching down to tenderly brush back a wisp of blond hair from her cheek, "I want you to listen to me. Things are rapidly coming to a head, and that means it is certain to become quite dangerous. I'd send you away if I could, but since I cannot, I want you to exercise the greatest care. Trust no one, and make certain never to be alone with anyone other than Elinore or me. Promise me."

The lambent glow in her eyes died and her expression grew somber. "Very well," she said, laying her hand against his cheek and gazing up at him in concern. "But what about you? Won't you be in danger as well?"

"Perhaps," he conceded, smiling down at her, "but I'm more able to protect myself than you."

"Why?" That chin he adored came up a notch. "Because you are a man? Both Mr. Colburt and Mr. Carling are men, if I may remind you, and it didn't do either of them a whit of good."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Adam felt his lips twitching. Trust his Elizabeth to argue to the very end, he thought, and silently opened his jacket, revealing the pair of pistols tucked in the waistband of his trousers.

"There, you see?" he said, smiling as he rebuttoned his jacket. "I'll be fine, I promise you."

Her scowl lessened, but she still looked far from convinced. "But what about—"

Adam silenced her the quickest way he could think of, taking her mouth in another kiss. When he next raised his head, his breath was coming in heavy rasps. He wanted Elizabeth more than he'd wanted anything in his life, but there simply wasn't time.

"Go to bed, Elizabeth," he ordered, frustrated desire making his voice sharp as a blade. "And mind you do what you're told. I won't have you risking your life out of sheer stubbornness."

"And I won't have you risking yours out of sheer masculine bravado," she shot back, fiery as always. "Although heaven knows why I should worry; your head is so thick, there is no denting it!"

Again Adam was aware of the urge to smile, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. "Just remember what I said," he ordered. "Trust no one, and whatever you do, don't be alone with any of the guests. Is that understood?"

Her reply was a haughty sniff, but to his relief she offered no further argument. Instead she turned and walked toward the door, her shoulders stiff with temper. Her fingers closed about the handle and she pushed the door open, but instead of walking out, she hesitated and then turned back to face him. Adam braced himself for more angry words and was stunned when he saw tears shining in her eyes.

"Elizabeth"—he took an impulsive step toward her—"what—"

"Be careful," she interrupted, her voice soft and husky with tears. "Please be careful. I could not bear it if something were to happen to you." And with that she was gone, slipping from the room before he could find the words to stop her.

Elizabeth rose from her bed the following morning, wooly-headed and exhausted. The thought of Adam in danger had filled her with such terror she'd been unable to sleep, and had spent the better part of the night staring up at the ceiling and trying desperately to solve the ever-deepening mystery swirling about them. She'd been on the verge of dropping off when a sudden thought occurred to her; a thought so extraordinary it had her popping up in bed, her exhaustion vanishing as if it had never been.

She passed the rest of the night developing the thought into a theory and marshaling arguments sufficient enough to convince Adam that she had the right of it. But as dawn was creeping over the horizon she had a change of heart
and decided to discuss the matter first with Lady Elinore. The duke's daughter was as cool as they came, and Elizabeth knew she could rely upon her for sage advice and counseling. She also knew she could count upon her discretion; on the outside chance she was mistaken, the fewer who knew of her outlandish theory, the better.

After splashing cold water on her face to revive herself, Elizabeth dressed for the morning and set out in search of her friend. She found her ladyship in the morning room, taking her breakfast in solitary splendor. When Elinore saw her standing in the doorway she gave her a welcoming smile.

"Ah, Elizabeth, there you are," she said, raising her cup in a toast. "Come join me. I was about to expire from loneliness."

Elizabeth hurried forward, waving the footman away as she took her seat. When the other woman caught sight of her wan features, her smile quickly faded.

"Good heavens, my dear, what is wrong with you?" she exclaimed, studying Elizabeth with marked concern. "You'll forgive my bluntness, I am sure, but you look dreadful! Are you ill?"

Elizabeth shook her head, too weary to prevaricate. "No, no, I am fine," she said, and then turned to the hovering footman, who was also regarding her with a great deal of alarm.

"Thank you, Henry," she said, relieved to have remembered his name. "You may go now. Lady Elinore and I can serve ourselves. I am certain you must have a great many other chores in need of doing."

The footman cast Lady Elinore a questioning glance, and at her silent nod he picked up the coffeepot and took his leave. Elizabeth waited until she was certain he was gone before leaning toward her friend.

"I must speak with you," she continued, taking care to keep her voice low-pitched in case Henry had a propensity for listening at keyholes. "I wish to ask you something,
but first you must give me your word you'll not breathe a word of what I am about to say to anyone."

The brunette's eyebrows lifted in silent query, but that was her only sign of interest. "You have my word," she said quietly. "What is it you wish to say?"

Elizabeth drew a shaky breath, suddenly uncertain of what she was about to ask. But then she thought of Adam, and the knowledge of what he was risking had her straightening her shoulders in determination.

"What do you know of Lady Barrington?" she asked at last, deciding it was wisest to be as blunt as possible.

Elinore's shoulders jerked as if in surprise, but her manner was as impeccably cool as always as she lifted her cup to her lips for a dainty sip. "What do you mean?"

Again, Elizabeth decided only the blunt truth would serve. "Is she to be trusted?"

Elinore was quiet a long moment before replying. "No," she said carefully, setting down her cup and meeting Elizabeth's gaze with narrowed eyes. "I would have to say she is not. May I ask how you came to this conclusion?"

The cool question had Elizabeth frowning in confusion. "You don't sound very surprised," she said, thinking her friend remarkably sanguine, considering the fact that they were discussing treason.

Elinore shrugged and picked up her cup again. "We've known for a long while that her grace has been selling secrets to the French," she replied, settling back in her chair. "It was never anything vital—that is to say, of military or diplomatic importance—and so it was decided to leave her in place and keep watch on her. We were more interested in discovering her contacts than in stopping her. That is, until Lord Knolton."

"Lord Knolton?" The name wasn't familiar to Elizabeth.

"You wouldn't know him. It all happened while you were out of the country, and the matter was hushed up as much as such matters could be. Suffice to say the viscount was one of Lady Barrington's many paramours, a member
of the Privy Council who slit his own throat last October. At the time it was put out that he'd done so over his debts, but in truth there was another reason."

"A reason involving Lady Barrington?" Elizabeth asked, going green at the thought of someone so driven by despair he would cut his own throat.

"Indeed, although we didn't tumble to that until one of our men in France revealed that Napoleon's agents had a draft of a letter to the Americans offering peace," Elinore continued. "The original letter was known to be in Knolton's diplomatic pouch, a pouch that went missing shortly before the viscount took his own life. We decided he realized that his mistress had been helping herself to his dispatches and killed himself to avoid the scandal."

"And then Lord Derring's papers went missing," Elizabeth said, easily making the connection. "That's why you came, isn't it? Your pretending to be reconsidering Adam's proposal was a sham."

Elinore gave a delicate sniff. "Indeed, haven't I already said no woman of sense or spirit would have him? But that is neither here nor there," she added, before Elizabeth could protest. "We've no time to be pulling caps over the wretch now. Only tell me how you came to decide her grace was involved. Papa will be arriving at any moment, and he'll be wanting a full report."

"It was the attack on Mr. Carling," Elizabeth replied, magnanimously electing to overlook the slur to her beloved's character. "Her grace and I were talking about Mr. Derwent and his stupid boasting, and I commented that while I didn't think Mr. Derwent knew much about anything, I rather thought Mr. Carling might. Her grace agreed with me."

"And then Mr. Carling was attacked just as he was about to reveal what he knew to Falconer," Lady Elinore concluded, nodding. "Yes, it all fits. Now all we need to do is to find some link between Lady Barrington and Mr. Colburt, and we shall have her. Have you any theories to put forth?"

"Perhaps," Elizabeth said carefully, thinking of the other part of her theory that had kept her up for most of the night. "It occurred to me that if I was making use of the local gentlemen to send my letters abroad, then perhaps Lady Barrington might have similar resources. How else could she get the information out of the country with no one being the wiser?"

Elinore looked much struck by this. "It's possible, I suppose," she conceded, tapping her foot. "The smugglers hereabouts are generally held to be loyal subjects, but who is to say they aren't adverse to a touch of treason? Any ideas how we might make contact?"

Elizabeth hesitated. Adam had given orders that they were to keep to the house, but if she and Elinore had any hopes of stopping the duchess, she didn't see they had a choice. However much she disliked the idea of going behind Adam's back, she disliked the idea of a traitor going free even more.

"Elizabeth?" Elinore was regarding her impatiently. "Did you not hear me? Have you any ideas how we can contact the local smugglers?"

Elizabeth shrugged off her troubling doubts and sent the other woman a slow smile. "As a matter of fact, my lady, I have. How would you like a new bonnet?"

Thirteen

"It was Lady Barrington," William said, his resolution obvious despite his weak voice. "She killed Charles; I am certain of it."

"And yet it never occurred to you to inform anyone of this?" Adam demanded furiously. "Why the devil not?"

When he'd been informed that the earl's son had regained consciousness and was asking to speak with him, he'd been prepared to give the lad some degree of latitude. His congenial attitude hadn't lasted above five minutes, however, when he learned the magnitude of what the bloody fool had been keeping from him.